


The Blood God of Hypixel

by Andrastae



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, good things happen also I promise, no beta we die like men, thats for u techno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrastae/pseuds/Andrastae
Summary: "But Andras, that's not how the story goes!!"  Sure it is wrote it right there, canon whomTommy dives into the chaotic blood sport arenas of Hypixel in search of a famous gladiator who may or may not be his long lost older brotherI mean, dragging home a traumatized unhinged pit fighter with hair trigger reflexes and a decade of psychological scar tissue so he can fight in your war? There's no possible way for this to end poorly
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 244
Kudos: 825





	1. Found You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted I wrote it in the notes on my phone in an hour. anyway no clowning in the comments and if y'all even THINK about shippin I'll shuck u like corn <3

Tommys never been this far from home before. He tightens the straps on his pack and clutches his hands around them to try and ignore the fact that they're trembling. Between his hood and his height he knows he can pass for an adult here, but the second someone sees his face it's over. Thankfully he's gotten good - okay, passable at - being invisible these past few days and he manages to slip through the crowd with unnoticed.

He needs to find him. He's been tracking him for weeks now. At first he didn't want to believe what he had found, it seemed way too ridiculous to be true, but hes pretty sure.

The only depiction he could find of the Blood God showed him with his iconic skull mask over his face, his body in profile and his jet black sword hanging loose from his hand as he strode around the arena, stoking the crowd into a frenzy. He was a legend, and while god might only be a title there were certainly a number of people who believed it. Tommy wasn't so sure he didn't. Dude was fuckin scary.

He darted into a doorway and pressed his back against a wall, letting out a long breath at the feeling of the cool hardened play between his shoulder blades. The roar of the crowd was muted to more of a background hum than the deafening chaos outside.

It had taken some time to convince the janitors that he belonged, but to be honest why else would a kid like him be here. This was no place for children.

He set his jaw and brushed sand off the edge of his pants, although to be honest he had no idea why he bothered anymore. There was another match about to start. A roar echoed off the walls as presumably someone landed a hit. His moment. He darted through hallways and passages, dodging around people with muttered apologies, keeping his head down. Quiet and docile was never something he did well but he needed this. He needed this to work. Finally he darted through doorway and slammed his back against it, panting. He should be safe here for -

"So, sabotage or delivery?" The mildly bemused monotone tugged at something in the edge of his memories, a memory buried so deep he doubted he could pull it out without upending his mind. He slowly turned his head and there to his left, sprawled against the wall in the corner with his legendary black blade lying across his thighs, was the Blood God of Hypixel.

"Uhhh....neither?"

He wasn't usually one to hesitate, but the hollow eyes of the bone mask were throwing him off more than he cared to admit. The man stood to his full height, lanky limbs unfolding as he slowly spun his sword over his hand before sheathing it at his hip

"Do I know you kid? You seem kinda familiar."

For probably the first time in his life Tommy found himself lost for words. What did he say? Hi I'm your long lost brother I need you to kill someone for me? I think you and my dad had a fight when I was six do you want to come to war? Finally he managed to settle on, "You knew my brother"

Tommy couldn't see his face, but the figures shoulders dropped.

"Look I'm sorry for your loss, but everyone who goes up to the islands knows the terms and conditions. If you think your family was improperly compensated for your loss then you should probably go through the proper channels. I think you should go."

Tommy watched his retreating back as he turned away with a flare of panic.

"My brothers name is Wilbur!" The Blood God goes so still he might as well be carved of stone, and for the first time since he began to put pieces together tommy starts to actually believe that he might be right about the terrifying gladiators identity. There is absolutely no chance that he is going to risk his neck by walking up to him right now but he takes a slight step backward as he hesitantly continues. "My dad's name is Phil, he's GREAT. He always burns pancakes, but he can cook anything else! Not like Will, Will can't cook to save his life, - "

"What do you want from me?"

Tommy takes another half step back at the leashed violence in the gladiators voice. He stutters out the beginning of a response, but is immediately cut off.

"Is this a threat? Leave them out of whatever it is alright, you have my attention."

Tommy stumbles, going to take another step back, but then suddenly the Blood God moves. He's heard stories of course, the murderer who moves like a dancer, the most successful warrior ever to fight on the islands of Hypixel, but seeing him in action is something else entirely. The tip of his blade is pressed against the edge of Tommy's chin before he's registered anything more than a hurricane of pink hair and crimson cloak. Looking at him like this he can see his eyes, the same strange brownish red as Wilbur. Maybe that's what startles him enough to let it slip out.

"Dad was right, you and Wilby really do look alike"

The instant it passes his lips he regrets it, his entire body tensing up as he waits for the strike, but instead the impossibly cold metal pressed against his chin is gone. He hesitantly opens his eyes to see Techno has somehow made it back across the room - it is Techno, he's positive now - and is staring at him with horror painted in every line of his body. His voice is far from the previous monotone when he speaks, a thousand emotions fighting for space within the two Short words.

"You're Tommy."


	2. Echoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE do not expect this to be my regular upload schedule I just woke up in a Mood. Also this only very loosely follows canon but I'm having fun so who cares

To be honest, Tommy was having trouble processing this. He had set out from home on a desperate hope, the smallest scrap of a prayer, and now he was sitting at a famous arena fighters kitchen table watching him make soup. He couldn't stop staring. At some point Techno had shoved his fluffy white sleeves up his arms while he chopped mushrooms, and the ruin of his skin told a pretty dark story about what he's been doing for the past decade. Countless old scars layered one on top of the other; slashes, burns, something that looked like a bite mark from a terrifyingly huge creature. Even his hands hadn't escaped, although most of those scars we much smaller, thin white lines scattered across his knuckles like freckles.

Tommy watched his brother - his _brother_ \- drumming his hands on the edge of the furnace, visibly nervous. There was none of the inhuman grace of earlier here. He still wore his mask as he dropped into the seat across from Tommy, a mismatched chair he'd dragged in from a neighboring room. Tommy found himself wondering how long he had been here. How long had he lived in this empty kitchen with a furnace, a crafting bench, and a table with one chair. There were no pictures or images on the wall, the only décor one of his own promotional posters stuck to the back of the front door like an afterthought. Tommy thought of the home that he had grown up in, flowers on the table and random jackets tossed across chairs, the sound of Wills guitar drifting through the rooms. He thought of the room at the end of the hall that had been locked as long as he could remember. Will never talked about him, but Tommy knew that he thought about him sometimes, on the days when his music was slower and softer and he took a long moment to respond when you called his name. He saw his oldest brother in the shadows under Phil's eyes, the way that Will hates his birthday - _their birthday, his twin brother, his other half, why did you LEAVE me_ \- with a passion, the bright pink mug in the back of the cabinet. His house had always been warm and bright, but there's a hollow underneath, the ache of an old wound. That same ache is here, but there's no warmth to cover it up. It just hurts.

Techno slides the bowl of soup across the table, startling Tommy out of his head. "You should eat." Tommy stares across the table at him, hesitantly pulling the soup to himself. "Can you take the mask off? I mean, don't get me wrong, it looks awesome, but it's kinda creepy? Can you eat in it? I mean, of course you can, it only covers the top half of your face, - " He pauses as Techno reaches up behind his head and hesitantly unclasps his mask, holding it for a beat before exhaling slowly as he lowers it from his face.

"It's uh. It's been a pretty long time since anyone's seen me without it." His eyes flick up to meet Tommys and he's struck again by how much he looks like Will. His face has it's own share of scars, including a brutal one that barely misses his left eye, but the shape is so familiar it hurts. The edges are sharper, the lines of his face colder, somehow, but Tommy knows if he had seen him like this he never would have doubted. He knows Wills face better than his own, and he can't help but see him now in the extremely nervous man on the other side of the table.

"So uh. You. Stab people?" Tommy wants to bang his head on the table, but it startles a huff of amusement out of Techno.

"I mean, I also shoot them." Tommy isn't quite sure why he laughs at that, but it gets him a lopsided grin, so he counts it as a win. Techno leans back in his chair, hooking a foot under the table for balance as he wobbles on two legs, his eyes sharpening as he scans Tommy.

"So, I don't want to be rude or anything but why are you here? Because I came a really long way from home, and I haven't been very public about my identity."

Tommy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, Will thinks I'm nuts to go looking for you, given him and dad have tried pretty hard to accept you're probably dead," Techno goes chalk white, but doesn't interrupt. "But with the war we really need allies we can trust and Will said something about blood being all we have left and it got me thinking, "

"Hold on." Tommy looks up to see Techno holding up a single finger, a gesture so Phil that his mouth snaps shut without his permission. "You're at war? Aren't you like, twelve?"

Tommy puffs up defensively. "I'll have you know I'm sixteen, okay big man, I can take care of myself."

There's a long moment where Techno just stares at him, something so deeply sad in his gaze that he can't help but fidget under it's weight. Without warning, Techno drops his chair back onto its four legs with a bang, rising to his feet in a single movement. "Alright, I'll have to talk to Lord Hypixel, but I'm his favorite so I have a pretty long leash. I keep most of my important stuff in my ender chest, so once I get back we should be good to go. Feel free to wander around my rooms, but don't go in the armory. I shouldn't be long. Also, finish your soup" Tommy stares after him, thrown by his flurry of movement.

"What are - What are you doing??" Techno looks over his shoulder at him, and it takes everything he has not to flinch back from the feral grin that graces his face before it disappears behind the mask.

"Isn't it obvious Tommy-boy? We're going to win a war."


	3. Homeward Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's HEREE!!! anyway heres my other favorite boy :) I wasn't really sure where I wanted this story to go I just wanted to write that 1st scene but I think I might have an idea so it might end up being longer you guys are welcome

"Okay, do you actually know what the word subtle means?" Techno stared blankly at him.

"I left the mask, didn't I?"

"Techno, you're literally wearing a crown. You’re dressed like a fuckin English king off to get guillotined." 

He frowned slightly, tilting his head as he thought. "I don't think the English actually used the guillotine, they were much more traditional on the decapitation front. Stop."

"No, look, yeah you look cool but HOLY FUCK -"

The ground fell away under his feet and for a split second he was falling. He opened his eyes slowly to find himself dangling over a ravine, the gravel that he had been standing on far, far below him. Holding him by an iron grip on his backpack and the back of his shirt was Techno, who favored him with an unimpressed stare.

"I did say stop."

"Wh- PUT ME DOWN!!!"

He is very carefully lowered onto solid ground, and despite Technos bemused monotone, Tommy can't help but notice his hands are shaking ever so slightly as he brushes nonexistent dust off of Tommys shirt.

"Given that we're almost home, I would expect you to know the area better."

Tommy bristled. Okay, yes he knew the ravine was there, and yes he should've been more careful, but he was a bit distracted right now, what with the whole long lost brother thing.

"How do you even know where we are? You haven't been here in like, a billion years."

Honestly Tommy was tempted to keep a tally of the number of unimpressed stares he got. The number was probably getting pretty high.

"I have a good memory for navigation." He ran his thumb absently up and down the hilt of his sword, adding after a moment, "Ten years, three months."

"Huh?"

"Not a billion years. Ten years, three months. And six days. Approximately."

Tommy stared at him, a joke on the tip of his tongue, till he actually got a good look at his face and something twisted in his gut. He didn't know Techno very well yet, but he knew Will and he knew what Will looks like when he’s scared. Techno wears it a little differently, more along the jaw than the eyes and a little bit more restlessness of his fingers, but it was close enough that he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. Techno wasn't just scared. He was terrified.

"You know they'll be happy to see you, right?"

They were only a mile or so out now and while Tommy was more than a little bit anxious to see everyone again, if Techno didn't want to do this he didn't want to force him. At first he had simply wanted him because they needed him for the war, they needed his skill and his brilliance that Tommy had been raised on stories of. But over the past day or so of travel, of listening to him talk about myths and make fun of zombies before he butchered them and tell stories of his strange rivalry with someone named Squid, the fact that this was his brother had started to sink in. He didn't want to mess this up. Tommy's words lingered in the air. For a moment he thought that Techno was going to say something but he stayed quiet, watching the land pass as they walked and running his fingertips up and down the hilt of his sword.

"Where are you going?" Tommy glanced over his shoulder to see Techno standing on the crest of a hill looking down at him with his eyebrow furrowed.

"Pogtopia?" Techno stared blankly at him. "OH right. Okay so we got like, kicked out of the city. And now we're refugees, and we live in a cave. Come on, it's cool!"

Tommy spun on his heel and bounded off in the direction of Pogtopia, entirely missing the darkening expression on his brothers face as he stared in the direction of the city.

"I feel like this is a safety hazard."

Tommy grinned at him, his eyes bright with excitement as he gave the tour of the base.

"Okay big man, not my fault you hate fun. We did have railings, but without em you can jump straight down to the water at the bottom! You have to try it some time, "

"Tommy! You're back!"

Tommy spun around, his already blinding smile somehow brightening as Wilbur jogged out of a tunnel to greet him, ruffling his hair as he did so. From the shadows behind him Tommy heard a sharp intake of breath. Wilbur clearly heard it too, grabbing Tommy by the scruff of his neck - the second time in as many hours, he wasn't a bloody cat - and yanking him back, putting himself between Tommy and the figure in the shadows.

"Show yourself."

"I dunno, are you gonna stab me? Cause that isn't a great incentive."

Willburs sword clattered against the stone floor, the sound incredibly loud in the sudden choking quiet.

The demanding tone had shifted into something that was almost a plea.

"Show yourself."

Painfully slowly, Techno stepped out of the shadows. As much as Tommy wanted to roll his eyes at the flair for drama he had to admit that the flickering light of the torchlit ravine made him look incredibly impressive, throwing his scars into sharp contrast and making his hair almost glow. His voice was hesitant when he spoke.

"Hey Will." Wilbur remained exactly where he was, his mouth slightly open as Techno shifted under the burning weight of his gaze. "Look. I know we fought, and I'm sorry, but the kid asked for my help. And you know I'm not always good at this kind of....talking....thing, but I'm really good at violence. So you don't have to talk to me or anything, you can just ignore me if, if you want to, but I told him I would be here. So, " He cuts himself off with an undignified yelp as Wilbur slams into him with enough force to knock him back a step or two, unprepared for the arms suddenly wrapped around him

"You fucking asshole! I thought you were dead!" Wilburs voice is choked with tears and muffled though Technos fur collar where his face is buried, but the words are still sharp enough to rip him open.

"I'm.....sorry" He carefully wraps his arms around his brother, hesitant for a moment before giving in and sinking into the embrace. He has no idea how long he stands there, his face pressed into his younger  _ \- It doesn't matter that its two minutes Willbur, it gives me seniority -  _ brothers hair, his eyes closed as for the first time in ten years, three months, and six days, he's home.


	4. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started writing. Had a breakdown. Bon appetiet.  
> This turned a little more introspective than I intended but I like it

It's going to take some getting used to. Willbur can't help but stare at him the ghost of his brother. It's so deeply strange. His brother is there, in the way he runs a hand through his hair, the way he can talk about the myths of the stars and why he shouldn't have to do chores in the same breath, in the way he'll steal from you while looking you in the eye. But there's also a stranger there. There's a vigilance, a decades armor of scar tissue and trauma. He sees those same scars in himself and Tommy, but Techno wears them differently. When someone makes a noise that's too loud or when someone cries out and he's on his feet between heartbeats, he doesn't move like hes running. He moves like hes hunting. There's always something to him that feels like…a hunger. And sometimes when Tommy turns and runs away from him, because he tried to steal something out of his pocket, or simply because hes irritating him, there's a flicker of something dark in Technos eyes and Will can't help but remember something Phil once taught them. If you meet a monster in the forest, whatever you do, don't run.

But he can't really judge. He knows perfectly well that he isn't the same person that Techno sparred with branches in the creek outside of their home. He knows the kid who had cried when he had fought with his brother all those years ago would never have even considered some of the things hes done, the things he plans to do. In the two days since his return, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about what would have happened if he hadn't left. He blamed himself for so long, for harsh words spoken by an angry teen, what he said - _I never want to see you again!_ \- that's the kind of thing that haunts a kid if he wakes up to discover his brother gone.

He turns his focus back to the bow in his lap, cleaning up the enchantments carvings and carefully running an oilcloth along its length. He used to sing when he needed to think but music hadn't come easily of late. When he played all he could hear was the song, the anthem of L'manburg. Some days he can hear it even without the guitar, shards of song tumbling through his head like broken glass. He finds himself tapping out the tune whether he wants to or not, fingertips drumming against the earth like a second heartbeat. He knew he had done this. He had created this, he had done this to himself. He was the wall that the songs were written on. It just...helped, sometimes, to pretend that he could ever get it out. As if it was just words, as if it wasn't alive, as if the music wasn't a living angry thing that clawed at the inside of his mind. A familiar voice pulled him out of his head.

"Hey."

Wilbur didn't bother glance up, his gaze hollow as he sat at the edge of one of the catwalks, legs swinging in space. It was late enough to be early, and if they could see the sky the moon would probably be hanging heavy near the horizon as the sun got ready to rise in the dove grey sky. When he didn't reply, Techno sat next to him, letting his own legs swing free of the edge and leaning in slightly to bump his shoulder against Wilbur's.

"You know I wont judge you. If you just want to hurt them" Willburs gaze snapped to look at him, but Techno kept staring down the ravine into the darkness.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I - I want justice." Even to him his voice sounded uncertain. Beside him, his brother sighed. His classic 'oh great, I'm going to have to say things now' sigh that brought the tiniest smile to Wilbur's face at the realization that this, at least, hadn't changed.

"Look. I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, so I can tell you this. People are easier to kill if you don't care about them then if you hate them. Hate is addictive, but corrosive. It'll destroy you eventually. Apathy? Well. I'm a pretty good example of what apathy does" Wilbur scoffed.

"Yea, you're the pinnacle of psycological well-being" Techno glaced at him briefly, a noise of offence in the back of his throat, but didn't dispute it.

"Tommy told me about the button, Wilbur. And about your deal with this Dream guy." He huffed softly. "Kids always been a talker." Wilbur froze, opening his mouth to scrabble for an excuse that didnt come. His brother's gaze stayed fixed on where the ravine faded into darkness

"I think it's a good idea." Techno turns back to face him, meeting him with red-brown eyes he's still not used to seeing outside the mirror. "But I don't think it's enough."


	5. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay sry about updates this week I was bullied into coming home for today by my mum. But anyway we're starting to get into plot stuff which is definitely going to be fun. Also every single time I write techno in this story I end up making myself sad so enjoy

**One**  
**Two**  
**Three**  
Tommy shoves through the murmuring crowd, trying to get to the front, Wilburs voice echoing through his head like a death knell.  
**Four**  
**Five**  
**Six**  
He was supposed to be up there why was he here why couldn't he _see_ -  
**Seven**  
**Eight**  
**Nine**  
He bursts out of the crowd, his heart thundering in his throat. He would recognize the archer across from Dream anywhere.  
**Ten paces  
**He tries to scream, to reach out, to do anything, but he's frozen in place.  
**Fire.**  
The arrow from Dreams bow flies true, the smaller figure staggering as it strikes his chest.  
" ** _TUBBO!!_** "  
His throat aches with the force of his scream as the world comes into focus around him. He's in bed, the sheets tangled around him as he gasps for breath. Not the first nightmare of the duel he's had, but Tubbo taking his place is new. The door to his room bursts open, sending him in a crazed scramble backward that moves him about half a foot and gets him even more tangled in his sheets. Techno barely glances at him. He's barefoot, shirt unlaced and hair loose as he scans the room. His grip on his blade, Obliterator, loosens slightly as he seems to determine the room safe. He turns to face Tommy, eyes razor sharp.

"What's a tubbo." Tommy, still slightly stuck on the appearance of Techno in his bedroom, says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Were you asleep?" The look he receives implies that this is a stupid question.

"Yes. What's a tubbo." Tommy blinks slowly up at his brother. Disheveled, semiconscious, and wearing only loose pants and his overcoat, Wilbur sticks his head into the room.

"Hey Tommy, you good? Oh, hey Tech." Tommy pulls his legs up to his chest defensively.

"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare." Seeing Techno open his mouth, he adds, "Tubbo is my best friend." Techno contemplates this, a slight frown on his face.

"You shouldn't scream in your sleep. It gives away your location." Tommy stares up at him, something like horror twisting in his gut.

"That's. That's fucked up man. I mean, it's not like I did it on purpose." Techno shrugs.

"Gag yourself in the evenings till you break the habit then. Worked for me." There's a long moment of dead silence as they both stare at him with matching expressions of horror. Wilbur, his voice still heavy with sleep, recovers first.

"Okay, so that's. Deeply concerning." Techno frowned, tilting his head slightly as his brow furrowed as he replies.

"It does work though, and it's a valid concern. If you're playing hunger games or something you really don't want to be making noise at night." Wilbur didn't seem to quite know how to reply to that, so Tommy makes an attempt.

"You do realize you're safe here, right? This isn't the hunger games." If anything, Techno now looks more confused.

"Of course it is?" He glances back and forth between them, as though he was saying something obvious that they were missing. "War and war games are the same thing on different scales. We're at war, so we're in the game. Therefore this location isn't safe. Based on my approximation of this 'Dream' guys abilities, he could kill us at any time. This ravine is a good location, but it's not actually safe. Nowhere is." His gaze darts from Tommy, who had turned the approximate color of chalk, to Wilbur, who now looked very much awake and more than a bit sick. "I'm sorry, did I misunderstand the rules?"

Wilbur blinked slowly. "Techno. Is this a game to you?"

"Of course it is? What else would it be?" He glances between them. "You brought me here to kill people, right?" They both freeze, but Tommy nods uncertainly. "So that makes it a game. You win, or you fall. Simple!" He grins at them, poster-perfect. From their expressions, it isn't at reassuring as he intended.

Tommys voice is uncertain as he speaks. "Techno, I'm not sure - " Wilbur cuts him off.

"Okay! That's. Deeply horrifying on a level that I am not prepared to confront at " - he glances at a clock on the wall - "two hours before sunrise. Tommy, " and at this he stills, his maniac energy softening into something almost gentle. "Are you alright?" Tommy nods. To be honest, he's not sure if he is, which he doesn't doubt Wilbur can tell, but his brother lets it drop. "Alright well, rest up." Wilbur hooks an arm though Technos, towing him with him as he heads out of the room, tossing over his shoulder, "Dont forget you have training in the morning!" The door swings shut on the sound of Tommys groan.

Tommy had been hoping that Techno would make training easier, or at least interesting. Not a chance. He whines, rolling his shoulders, and Techno cut him an unimpressed look.

"You need to be as agile as possible in full armor, especially when tired. This is important." Tommy groaned, giving up on the stance and collapsing in the grass under a nearby tree.

"Why can't I wear _my_ armor?" He glances longingly at Wilbur, running the parkour course in feather-light diamond armor. Techno raps the tip of Obliterator on the crest of Tommys iron helm.

"Because iron is heavier, and it'll make you stronger. It could be worse," he adds with a smirk, and Tommy looks at Technos own golden armor with a shudder of horror. It could be indeed. "Up ya get kid, one more round then you can tap out for the day." Tommy launches himself to his feet with a cheer, trusting Techno to catch him as he overbalances in his armor. He does, with an almost inaudible sigh.

"Come on," he steps back, slinging Obliterator across his back and drawing a wooden blade, "Last round." Tommy focuses, slowing his breathing. Watch his footing. One step, then the other. His own sword sits in his hand like an extension of his arm, Techno having insisted that any hits he got in with it he deserved. He darts forward, and as Tech twists his wrist to block Tommy flicks his wrist around, the tip of the blade darting around Technos blade to scuff a line across his chestplate. He freezes in shock, and in an instant his sword is gone and a wooden blade lies across his windpipe. Undaunted, he grins at Techno.

"I got you!!" Techno huffs.

"You scratched me, and then immediately left yourself open to counterattack." Tommy grins blindingly back at him, and Techno softens, gracing him with one of his rarer genuine smiles; slightly crooked and actually reaching the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah, you got me." He tucks the training blade back into his belt, shaking his head affectionately as Tommy sprints over to the parkour course, dramatically reenacting the strike before he even fully skids to a halt.

A soft rustle of leaves behind him catches his ear. Techno draws his sword casually, running a polish cloth along its length as he scans the treetops behind him in the reflection. Nothing catches his eye at first, but a flicker of movement has him shifting the blade back where he'd been looking before. He frowns. It's gone now, but he could be sworn that patch of lighter green a few trees back had held a flash of white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a fencer so tell me if I get too technical describing swordfights I get very into it sometimes and I forget that not everyone wants to hear four paragraphs of disengage techniques


	6. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello this update took a while because the charactrs simply would NOT behave dream kept galavanting off into the forest to goof off like bro im trying to write a STORY here smh my head anyway enjoy love y'all

"I don't understand, how am I invited?" Wilbur sighs at Technos confusion.

"You're not. Heres the thing though. Both me and Tommy are extremely banned from the country in every imaginable way and also I'm pretty sure were supposed to be shot on sight," Tommy attempted to interject, but Will continues talking slightly louder. "But you're a celebrity! A festival this large you could probably pull off the act that you're simply visiting the city. You're probably the most famous fighter in the world. What are they gonna do, tell you to leave? It would be the perfect opportunity to get in undetected and figure out what's going on."

Techno blinks slowly at him, looking from his face to the crumbled flyer that he had dug out in a fit of planning frenzy. Tommy is almost vibrating with excitement at the corner. Wilbur knows he'll die before he admits it, but Tommy desperately wants the excuse to see Tubbo. Last night had been a harsh reminder that despite everything, Tommy was just a kid who missed his best friend. The two haven't gotten a chance to truly spend time together since himself and Tommy were banished. The occasional moments that he suspects they spend in the tunnels under the city, sharing the events of their day in a whisper and flinching at shadows hardly count.

While he loves Tubbo with an affection that almost matches how he feels for Tommy, he's still a kid, backed up to a wall in an impossible situation. So as much as he cares about him, he isn't entirely certain that he trusts him as deeply and unwaveringly as Tommy does. His hesitance feels a bit like a betrayal, but he considers it his job to some degree to hold that bit of suspicion in his heart. Even against bee-loving Tubbo and his sunrise smile.

Techno smooths the flyer against the war table, his brow furrowing as he continues to scan it. Wilbur has no idea what he could be looking for. A trace of amusement curls in his chest as his brother practically dissects the paper with his eyes. Finally Techno huffs, shoving the flyer away with a dismissive roll of his eyes.

"I probably could have made a better one. Not that anyone would ask." Wilburs eyebrows shoot up, but Tommy beats him to it.

"THAT'S what you're upset about?? Graphic design??"

Techno gives a righteous huff, the flick of his shoulders somehow managing to radiate indignance as he drags his gaze disdainfully from Tommys tattered shoes to his rumpled hair.

"Some of us have standards of presentation, _Tommy_."

The curl of amusement in his chest bubbles up into a laugh as Tommy's offended sputter echoes off the wall of the ravine, half formed syllables tripping over each other to the background of his brothers laughter. It takes a few minutes to convince his brothers to stop sniping at each other, but eventually the settle down and begin to lay out a plan for the festival.

  
On an intellectual level Wilbur was perfectly aware of who his brother had become. The horrific scars that showed despite the lengths Techno went to cover them made it hard to forget. But seeing him like this was still jarring. Techno was a couple of inches shorter than him but he more than made up with it with sheer presence.

He stood in full jet black netherite armor, shimmering violet with layers upon layers of enchantments. Wilbur couldn't see any of the enchantment markings, he presumed that they had been done on the inside of the armor to prevent them from being scratched or damaged during combat. From the state of the armor that was a very real danger, but somehow the countless gouges and burn marks made it more intimidating. He wore his sword on his hip and his crossbow across his back, both well worn and almost humming with their own enchantments. A thick quiver of crossbow bolts sat at the small of his back, but oddly another container that somewhat resembled a quiver - although strangely sealed and much bulkier - was holstered on his right hip.

Wilbur had seen him preparing the crossbow bolts the previous night, and had been grudgingly impressed by his patience as he painstakingly poisoned each and every one. The second quiver however, that he hadn't seen before. Technos usual blood red cloak was folded under his shoulder plates and tucked into the bindings of the chest plate on his front, rippling softly behind him in the drafts of the ravine. In Short, he looked fucking terrifying. 

Wilbur had long since decided that Dream was the single most terrifying creature he had ever seen, but to be honest if he didn't know Techno, he probably would have changed his mind. He appeared to be fiddling with one of his braces, and Wilbur walked up to him, making sure to rap his knuckles on the doorframe as he came into the room. He had a feeling that startling Techno when he was like this wouldn't end well.

"Need a second pair of hands?" Techno glanced up, meeting his eyes and offering his arm without speaking. Wilbur took it, carefully undoing and retying the awkwardly placed buckle, speaking as he did so.

"What's in the second quiver?" Techno shrugged slightly.

"Some of the stuff I've designed over the years has been banned in the arena. There's no arena here. Who knows, I might get a chance to use it."

Wilbur finished the buckle, but kept his grip on his arm as he looked up to meet his brothers eyes. He knew perfectly well how unlikely Tech would be to stay for an emotional conversation if he had an escape.

"Look, I know you're the best. I've never seen you fight, not really, but I'm sure you're very impressive. You're not Tommy, you've never been one to exaggerate your own skills. If you say you can do this I believe you. But...," Will glances away, politely ignoring Technos not as subtle as he thought they were attempts to free his bracer straps from his twins grasp, "be safe, okay? I just got you back. I can't loose you again. Just...no matter what. Come home."

He releases his brother before he has a chance to start chewing off his arm or something equally melodramatic, but to his surprise Techno doesn't bolt from the room. Instead he hesitantly reaches for Wilbur's shoulder, pulling him into a somewhat awkward heavily armored hug. His voice is quiet as he speaks into the shoulder of Wilburs coat.   
"I will come home. No matter what."  
He pulls back to offer his younger brother a hesitant smile.  
"I just got you back too."  
Wilbur chokes back the tears that rise behind his eyes at his brothers rare show of genuine emotion to give a shaky smile in return.

"You better get going, you have a decent ride with Tommy to the border, and if you don't get to the stables in time you know he'll take the good horse."

Techno is out the door before he fully finishes talking, and Wilbur lets his eyes linger on the doorframe where the flash of crimson fabric disappeared. He knows they prepared as best as they can, but he can't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that everything is about to go horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yall wanna guess whats in the second quiver :))))


	7. Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was only supposed to be like a short little bit but I'm pretty sure this ended up being the longest chapter. I am extremely excited for the next chapter but I had a little bit too much fun with this one and it ended up getting insanely long so I'm gonna have to delay the fun part of the festival for next chapter

Just because he was used to baking in the sun under his armor and robes didn't mean he particularly liked it. He found himself incredibly grateful that he had ended up bringing the mask with him so he could wear it now. His skin tended to burn, and he would much rather minimize the amount of it exposed. Any other reason that he preferred the have his face covered then that was his own personal business. Yes, it made people less likely to talk to him. Yes, that was the goal. He shifted his position slightly against the wall, tilting his head curiously at the handful of people in line at some sort of redstone archery contraption. A figure tapped at his elbow. He turned his head slowly to look down at them, falling into his persona like shrugging on a well worn old coat.

They were small, probably the same age as Tommy, with rumpled brown hair that they had made a clear but unsuccessful attempt to tame. Despite their apparent age they were wearing a formal jacket and tie, albeit somewhat ill-fitting. When they spoke, their voice held the odd rounded accent of the city that he stood in, the same as Wilbur and Tommy.

"Are you really the Blood God?" Behind his mask he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"No, I just dress like this because I thought imitating someone well known for murdering people who annoy him was a good way to extend my lifespan." The kid visibly pales, the smile freezing on his face.

"OK well I'm. Yup! It was ah, it was good to meet you! See you later, at the ah. Speech!" The kid retreats as fast as he probably can without actually running, and Techno settles back comfortably into the silence of isolation and contemplating who on Earth taught these festival attendees how to shoot a bow. He thinks the largest danger might not be to the button that they're apparently aiming at but to his mental state if he has to continue watch them draw the string back like that. He's been watching long enough that is pretty sure the goal is to hit the button, which will trigger mechanism that dumps a nearby person into a tank of water. The person doesn't actually appear to remain trapped in the tank of water, so he's not entirely sure what part of this makes it a game, but the goal is pretty clear. He's honestly not sure how these people are messing it up.  
He pushes off the wall with a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, striding forward past the line towards the table where the bow rests. There a few mutters of discontent, but he simply utilizes incredible power of ignoring people who disagree with you and turns to the person who seems to be running the attraction.

"The goal is to get the person into the water, correct?" The man standing against the table, wearing the most ridiculous brightly colored spiral patterned sweater he's ever seen, nods cheerfully at him.

"If you hit the button they fall in the water." His eyes flick to the crossbow on Technos back. "I am going to have to ask you to use the provided bow, because I have a pretty good feeling that that thing would break every single one of the mechanisms"

Techno can't help but give a pleased smile to the man running the booth. He appreciates this ones practicality.

"And I'm not allowed just shoot the person into the water, correct?" Spiral-sweater stares at him for a long moment, eyebrows almost disappearing up into his floppy dark hair.

"Yes, that would be against the rules."

Techno gives a disappointed _hrm_ , but picks the bow and an arrow off the table, knocking and drawing back slowly. The bow is absolute garbage, the wood soft, the string frayed, and the draw weight practically non-existent. He grits his teeth. He's killed with worse.  
Breathe in, breathe out.  
Loose the arrow.  
The shot strikes the exact center of the button, striking home with a satisfying thud. To his right there's a yelp as the person who undoubtedly felt themselves safe in the incompetence of the general public is dumped into cold water.  
A razor-sharp grin bleeds across his face as he places the bow back on the table. Victories suit him, even the little ones. He turns to spiral-sweater, readjusting his glove that had shifted slightly as he drew the bow.

"Have I won anything?"

The man blinks at him, a trace of wariness entering his posture. "Sorry, but this one doesn't really have prizes."

He gives a disappointed hum, before dipping his head politely to both spiral-sweater and to the person currently drying themselves off next to the bucket of water, habitually sealing both their faces into his mind. They didn't strike him the type to settle scores outside the game, but he'd been wrong before.

"Well met, opponents."

And with that he spins on his heel, striking out into chaos of the festival. If he had realized there was victories to be had, although small strange ones without any blood or prizes, he would likely have not spent quite as much time leaning against the wall.

It had taken some time, but he was fairly certain that he had finally found an actual game at this strange festival. He leaned over the fence eagerly as he watched a teenager with curiously vulpine features strike his opponent to the ground. There was a lot less blood than he was used to, and both the victor and loser laughed as the fox boy helped him to his feet, but it was still something familiar to him. As the fox boy returned to his corner to down a bottle of water, Techno vaulted over the fence to land in a crouch opposite him. He stood to his full height, dusting his hands against his thighs as he did so.

"Is there a formal entry system to this?"

Fox boy had paled considerably, but he shook his head.

"No, you just have to take your armor and weapons off." Techno gave him the most incredulous look he could muster, glancing between his intricate full plate armor and his opponent, and the fox boy sighed slightly. "Or you could just take off the helm and gauntlets."

Techno grinned gleefully behind the mask, already unlacing the straps on his bracers. "Helm is fine but not the mask, other than that I should be okay."

The fox boy watches him with increasing nervousness as he strips his gloves to reveal his handwraps, and after bouncing on his toes for a moment and looking his opponent up-and-down, he toes off his boots as well.

"How down?" His opponent furrows his brow at him, tilting his head in clear confusion.

"How what?"

Techno can't help but sigh slightly. Do none of these people speak common?  
"How hard do you want me to put you down?"

His opponent goes an unusual shade of grey. "Please don't actually hurt me I just wanted to see you fight and I didn't think anyone else would go against you." He visibly considers for a moment before adding, "Actually Dream probably would, but I haven't seen him today."

Techno nods at him, softening a bit. Once or twice when he's been put up against someone so far again below his level that he was probably supposed to kill them, he's done this. A bit of a game of its own, he puts up far more of a fight than he by any means has to before bringing them down in the flashiest way he can. It's the least he can do. He unhooks his cloak, tossing it over the fence border before stepping forward.

"I can do a show."

He's not sure if this is the most terrified or the most exhilarated he has ever been in his entire life. He's pretty sure the answer is both. The blood god circles slightly to the side, his movements fluid and completely silent as his bare feet move across the packed earth. Fundy brings his hands up to his face like Wilbur taught him, tucking his chin as he keeps pace with his opponent. Honestly the largest surprise is that when the blood god moves he actually sees him do it. He manages to duck a lightning quick fist, and block a second strike. Now, now he's confused. He should have been on the ground before he fully realized the match at started, but he's pretty sure he's being played with. To be honest he can't bring himself to mind. His opponent moves again, this time with more purpose, and when Fundy lashes out in a reflexive defense an iron hand clasps around his wrist, spinning his body to pin his hand between his shoulder blades. A leg hooks around his and he finds himself on his knees, one arm twisted brutally behind his back.

"Yeild! Yield, I yield."

The grip on his wrist instantly vanishes, and the presence behind him moves back a few steps. He bounces to his feet, spinning to face the blood god.

"That was so cool!! You're amazing, that was incredible!"

The victor glances up from where he's retying his gauntlets, offering him a slight smile. "You have potential, kid. You fight like someone twice your size though. Remind me of someone I used to know. Fight smaller. Quick beats strong if you play it right."

He folds his cloak back into his armor, dipping his head formally to Fundy.

"Well met, opponent." He straightens and for a moment, despite the fact that Fundy can't see his face, he has the distinct impression that he's being studied carefully. Without further ado the blood god spins on his heel, vaulting over the fence and disappearing into the crowd with a flash of crimson. Fundy flops onto the earth of the fighting ground. Glancing up, he meets the upside-down gaze of a bemused Quackity.  
"These are literally the coolest bruises I have ever gotten."


	8. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay uh so look. This is the second half of the festival. And look I was expecting it to get dark but holy FUCK it got away from me so uhhhhh yep!!!! I'm probably gonna change the rating. Christ.  
> TW: disassociaton, fairly graphic depictions of violence, explosions, etc

For approximately the hundredth time, he shifts his weight and finds himself wondering if there is any way that he can subtly slip out. He despises speeches. He ends up in a lot of them with Lord Hypixel, but to be honest he would far rather have four people in a pit facing him with swords trying to end his life then spend more than five minutes sitting on an uncomfortable wooden bench listening to someone he doesn't care about talk about themselves.

The vaguely familiar man with the glossy curling horns has been talking for what feels like hours but to be honest probably hasn't been that long. Techno is deeply regretting everything about himself that makes it so difficult for him to disappear. Perhaps if he wasn't six feet of heavily armored red cloaked internationally famous warrior he would have to go to fewer speeches. That sounds like a nice life.

The dull voice grating on his ears seems to change, and he glances up to see to his surprise that the kid from earlier who had tried to talk to him is now speaking. He seems like a sweet kid, with bounce and cheer and a smile like sunlight. Techno hates him a little bit. It's easier to hate beautiful things then it is to care about them and watch them break, and he has a very very bad feeling about the way the man with the horns is looking at this kid.

He tries to focus for a moment, he really does, but to be honest he's always had trouble focusing on things that aren't immediately relevant to his existence. A sword, a sword is pretty relevant. A speech about the future of a country he doesn't live in? Significantly less so. So he might be fiddling with the hilt of his sword instead of paying attention when there's a loud crash, and a gasp goes up from the crowd. He glances up to experience the unfortunately rather common feeling of having been right in his pessimism.

The kid is in a cage, one that was probably hidden in the various banners and decorations at the top of the stage. He looks terrified, his whole body shaking as he presses against the back wall away from the man with the horns. Something deep in his chest uncurls slowly at the sight of helpless prey, and he crushes it down ruthlessly. Not the time.

His mind can focus well enough now. The man with the horn seems livid, his eyes flashing with rage as he swings a hand almost violently towards the cage. As best as Techno can tell, the kid in the cage has betrayed the man with the horns somehow. Something about being a spy? Is it were anyone else Techno would simply shrug, its their fault for being caught after all. But something about the terror in this kid's eyes as he presses against the wall of the cage tugs on the same long-dead instinct that had caught Tommy at the edge of a ravine. He doesn't like the feeling to be honest.

Without warning, the horned man spins, facing the crowd. His eyes are fever-bright as he drags them through the crowd, and they snag on Techno with a wild grin. It takes everything he has not to sigh. He's not going to like this.

"Blood god, isn't it? Come up here."

He pulls himself to his feet slowly, the crowd flinching away from him as he walks to the stage. His hand unconsciously rests on the hilt of his blade. Nothing good was going to come of this. The madman grinned broadly at him, sweeping an arm across the stage as Techno stepped onto it as though he were welcoming him into his lavish home.

"I want you to to the honors."

The sliver of ice that had dropped into his stomach when he had seen the kid standing at the microphone twists deeper into him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." He shifts his weight slightly, leaning back on a pillar and letting the enchantment and the scars of his armor shimmer in the evening sun. To his satisfaction the man hesitates a bit, but unfortunately doesn't seem all too discouraged.

"He's a traitor, you're a killer. I think you know what happens here." He huffs in annoyance. Sure, he's often a weapon for the use of others, but he hardly belongs to _this_ guy.

"I'm not your executioner." Something cold and calculating stares out from behind the man's fever-bright eyes.

"Well in that case I'm sure you won't mind if I put in a word with the man who holds your leash? You've been away a while, he's starting to worry. Would probably love to hear I'd seen you recently."

Ah. Well. Fuck.

That's where he'd seen this man before. He was one of those people in the shiny suits, oily hands and words always lingering after they spoke to you, following the wealthy and powerful like vultures in the trees around a dying cow. He's seen this one a handful of times, hanging off of Lord Hypixel. Which meant he likely wasn't bluffing. He contemplated it for a moment before sighing. He'd come to terms long ago about weighing strangers lives against his personal well-being, and he couldn't afford to go home yet.

"Would I be correct in assuming that if I get rid of your problem, my location might slip your mind when you next speak to my lord?" The man smiles gleefully, stepping aside to allow him a clear line of sight to the boy in the cage.

"I would have little of interest to say in my next letter to him I'm sure." Techno unslung his crossbow, reaching for an arrow as he pulled himself from his mind. He'd figured out a pretty long time ago that when things got bad enough he could sort of...let go. Create a few degrees of separation between himself and his body. It made it easier sometimes, to pretend the shaking hands dripping blood weren't his. It made things a bit fuzzy, but he didn't think it would matter here. As he drew the arrow from the quiver, a string of words caught his ear that turned his blood to ice.

"So, Tubbo, any last words?" His entire world ground to a halt.

He didn't have a lot of values. Living like he does, it tends to wear one down. Not many morals either to be honest. But there was one thing he had, one last scrap of his whole life, one last thing that had been the rock to which he clung for as long as he could remember.

He did this to keep them safe. His brothers.

Tommys scream of terror echoes in his ears, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his best friend. The boy, Tubbo, was staring up at the horned man with shaking hands, terrified tears welling in his eyes as he snarled in his face, and in that moment of rage he looked so familiar.

His brothers, safe.

His hand drops from his quiver of arrows to his fireworks. The boy is on the ground, the man isn't. If he gets the angle right, the kid should live. Probably.

Hook the stirrup, draw the string, load the charge, shoulder the bow. Fire.

His crossbow has been heavily modified. He's always wanted to find out if it works. He's pleased to discover it does.

Hook the stirrup, draw the string, load the charge, shoulder the bow. Fire.

The crunch of breaking bone. Someone is sobbing at his feet. He thinks the sky might be on fire. He thinks he might be the one who set it.

Hook the stirrup, draw the string, load the charge, shoulder the bow. Fire.

Tommy is screaming in his face with tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Blood under his nails in his hair it gets everywhere it's so hard to get out it gets in his mouth and his eyes he can't breathe - pull back. Let go. Not his hands. Someone is screaming in his face. He steps past them.

Hook the stirrup, draw the string, load the charge, shoulder the bow. Fire.

Someone - _Will it's **WILL**_ \- puts a hand on the crossbow, pushing the front down. He can't hear them through the fog, but they're tugging at his arm. The crowd is a writhing wounded creature, smoke staining the air like arterial spray. Screams of pain and fear echo from the buildings there blood on the flagstones he did this he did this he - not his hands. Pull back. Separate. He's fine. Someone set the city on fire. A man is dragging him out of it.

He goes with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	9. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise at some point we're probably gonna get to going over the events of the festival in more detail, but for now everyone is still kind of processing. Anyway enjoy :)  
> tw: uhhh tubbo got blown up so hes dealin with that idk

Everything hurts. Waking up feels like dragging himself out of honey, sleep lingering on his skin. A soft whine scrapes from behind his teeth as he opens his eyes - wait. He reaches up with his right hand to touch the left side of his face. His fingers brush against fabric. Bandages. He looks around the room. It's small and clearly underground, and...oh. It had taken him a moment to realize, since he didn't want to risk moving much, but Tommy was asleep in a chair right of the bed. He looked a bit ridiculous with long limbs pointing every which direction, and a smile tugged at Tubbos mouth before it triggered a white-hot wave of pain across the left side of his face. Startled, a yelp escapes his mouth before he can stop it. There's a thump, and he glances around the room to try and figure out where it came from before his eye settles on the empty chair next to his bed. Thankfully doesn't have long to contemplate whether he should attempt to sit up to try and find out what happened, because Tommy is on his feet and bending over the bed before he realizes that the sound was probably him falling out of his chair.

"Tubbo?"

Honestly the sound of Tommy's quiet voice is probably the largest surprise he's had since he woke up. He genuinely can't member the last time he heard his best friend speak softly. He stares up at him, his heart breaking a little bit. Tommy looks a mess, his eyes deeply shadowed and tear-stained, his hair pointing a thousand directions.

"Are you okay?" Tommy stares at him, open mouthed, before releasing an unholy screech of outrage.

"Am I okay?!? Me??? You're asking ME???" He gestures in the direction of the bed, as if concerned that Tubbos injuries had somehow escaped his notice. Tubbo smiled a bit, more careful this time to only use half his mouth. He'd never admit it, but the familiar earthshattering volume of what Tommy seemed to consider a conversational tone was more than a bit soothing.

"Well, I know how I am, I want to know about how you - " He cuts himself off with a hacking cough, followed by a choked cry of pain as he reflexively brings his left hand up to cover his mouth. He grits his teeth against the wave of agony, and by the time he refocuses Tommy is hovering over him radiating concern. He reaches up with his good arm for him, but ends up poking him in the eye.

"Ah, sorry. My depth perception...isn't that good. Right now."

"Well that's to be expected for a little bit."

He jerks away from the unexpected voice, his body tensing up before Wilbur darts around the bed to his right side, apologizing the whole time.

"I'm really sorry, honestly, I didn't think at all, truly I'm so - " Tubbo cuts him off.

"It's okay Wilbur! Like you said, it might take a little bit. To get used to. And it'll only be till I heal!" He glances up at them with his best half smile, but Wilbur refuses to meet his gaze. "It...it is only till I heal? Right?" His gaze flickers from Wilbur studying the floor to Tommy, whose is jaw locked like he's going to war. The penny drops, along with his stomach. "My eye isn't going to heal. Is it."

Wilbur sighs, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he finally meets his gaze. He looks exhausted. "I'm so sorry Tubbo. I managed to fix a lot of the burn damage on a surface level, but the inner eye damage was way above any of our ability. It's uh." he hesitates here, taking a deep breath before continuing. "There's a pretty good chance the ear on that side is fucked as well. I'm an alchemist more than a doctor, and our human anatomy expert was more or less out of commission. I did my best, but to be honest regenerative potions don't do much for things that wouldn't heal on their own." His rust brown eyes are devastated as he holds Tubbos gaze. "We won't know the full extent of the damage for a while. I'm sorry I couldn't do enough."

Tubbo meets his gaze with his own, doing his own assessment. Yeah, everything hurts. _So_ much. He fucking can't see, and he's pretty sure Wilbur's right about his hearing on the left side. What he can hear is distorted and odd, as if coming through a long tunnel. He feels like he was dragged behind a horse for several miles, and when it finally dropped him, it came back to trample him for good measure. But his friends need him to be okay. He can do that.

He looks back up from where his gaze had drifted to his bedsheets, and gives the brightest smile he can using half his face. It hurts, but he knows it'll make them feel better.

"Hey, I can still hear you though! I mean you're a bit lopsided, but that's okay! I mean we're all here together, right? We can figure everything else out." Wilbur stares at him like he's from another planet, but Tommy, amazing, loud, understanding, _brilliant_ Tommy, grins back at him. He knows Tubbo needs this, needs to pretend that everything's fine. Sooner or later he'll have to admit that it isn't, that he isn't, but Tommy will be there for that as well. For now, he could keep smiling.

"Also though, is there water? Because my if my throat gets any drier I'm going to start finding cactuses in it." Tommy uncorks and hands him a potion bottle filled with water, a playful scowl on his face.

"I'm pretty sure it's cacti, actually." Tubbo takes a deep drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That's stupid, why on earth would it be cacti?"

Neither of them notice Wilbur slip out the door.

The wood of the door is rough under his knuckles. "Techno, it's me."

It's several minutes, with him almost giving up before his brothers ragged voice bleeds through the door.

"What do you want?"

He sighs, sinking to the ground against the door in relief. To be honest every time he's tried to talk to his brother in the past three days, he's been terrified of him not answering. Either he left, or....well. He's still here. He's okay.

Wilbur tilts his head back against the door, imagining he can feel his twins back against his own through the splintery oak.

"Tubbo woke up today." Pressed up against the wood like this, he can hear Technos rough exhale.

"Told you he would. Your potions aren't as bad as they used to be."

Wilbur hummed. "You can't give me all the credit. You're the one who helped me make the burn salve, told me how to wrap his arm, what to expect when he woke up. He wouldn't be here without you."

The instant the words escape his mouth he winces, and sure enough Technos laugh echoes through the wood. "You're damn right he wouldn't be there without me."

Wilbur sighs, running a hand over his face. "Tech...Schlatt knew he was a traitor. He would have been executed either way."

His brother snarls back, his flashing eyes clear in Wilburs minds eye. "You're right, me shooting him point blank with a firework was a good thing! We should all have dinner in a big happy family! Call Dad, just like old times, - "

Wilbur doesn't remember getting to his feet, but he's facing the door as he slams his fist against it hard enough to drive splinters under the skin. "Don't talk like you know anything about this family, _blood god_. You weren't fucking here."

His coat flares around him as he spins, footsteps echoing through the hallway as he strides away. In his wake, Techno drops his head back against the door at his back with a dull thud.

Well. That could have gone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, lying on the kitchen counter: I need to figure out the best angle to hit a child  
> My wife, trying to cook pasta in peace: what the legitimate fuck are you talking about


	10. The Cain Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think im very funny  
> also im so sorry its been so long I had finals and then I FULLY lost momentum but im back!!! for now, I hope.

_Three days ago_

He keeps tripping. The weight in his arms of his best friend, unconscious and covered in burns, definitely isn't helping as he staggers through the forest. His brother is a little ways behind him, towing the absolute maniac who decided to shoot his best friend for no apparent reason, but he can’t really afford to focus on anything other than one foot in front of the other as he navigates through the tangled forest separating L’Manburg from Pogtopia. He isn't the strongest person, and his shoulders ache from carrying Tubbo. The bones in his legs also ache, that awful twisting pain that comes from enderpearls. He knows using them is risky but he needed to get to the stage as fast as possible. A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of his brot - the fucking psychopath that he had trusted to help him, that he had been stupid enough to believe. 

Finally they reached the hill that hides the entrance to their ravine. He lays Tubbo on the ground as gently as he can as he carefully shoves his way through the shrubbery that blocks the entrance, moving it to create a gap that he can carry his unconscious best friend through. Getting him through the mess of bridges and catwalks is difficult but finally they manage to make it to his room, and he lays him on the bed with a finality that turns his heart to stone. He finds himself slipping, staggering back and sinking to the ground with his back pressed against the wall and head between his knees where they were pulled up to his chest. His heartbeat echoed in his ears like a drum, so loud he couldn't hear his own desperate breaths tearing at his chest. 

He couldn't stop moving. It was like an itch in his bones that he couldn't get out no matter how much he paced. Wilbur had kicked him out of Tubbos room, dragging in a couple brewing stands and all of the admittedly sparse medical equipment they had. Tommy had offered his help, but they both knew he was a terrible alchemist on his best days, never mind on a day when his hands couldn't stop shaking and something between a sob and a scream was lodged in his throat like a tumor. So now he was in the bottom of the ravine, pacing back-and-forth and bouncing on his toes as he desperately waited for something _, anything_ from Will, he needed him to tell him anything just, just _something_ please Will please. There’s a faint hiss of escaping breath and his head snaps around. He'd almost forgotten about him. 

Techno was sitting on a ledge most of the way up to the next layer of catwalks. That disturbing dead look in his eyes was mostly gone and his face was pulled into a grimace hand to his temple as if his head was bothering him. As Tommy watched, he shook himself, as if pressing some kind of reset button, and the usual sharpness seemed to fade from his eyes and his expression sank back to that disturbing flat hollowness that he had worn as he'd reloaded his crossbow again and again even as the burns on his fingertips cracked and bled.

Techno picked at the edge of a burn on his thumb with detached curiosity, and something snapped in Tommys chest. How dare he. How fucking _dare_ he follow them home like he belonged here, like he hadn't just ruined _everything_. Like he hadn't just nearly killed _his_ Tubbo. His hands screamed with pain where the nails dug crescents into the skin of his palms but he barely felt it over the white hot rage eating at the inside of his chest. Techno leapt lightly from the ledge down to the floor of the ravine and without thinking Tommy lunged at him. If he had thought for more than a moment he undoubtedly would have realized how awful an idea this was, how completely without a positive outcome for him this was, but as it was his vision bled red at the edges and everything faded except the feeling of his fist striking his brothers face.

Immediately agony flared up his wrist, the bones of his hand screaming where his knuckles impacted Technos cheekbone. Techno staggered, the glaze of his eyes fading as he twisted to meet Tommys gaze. Distantly a corner of his mind noted that despite his immense presence, Techno was only slightly taller than him. He looked smaller now. His rust brown eyes were wide as he held a hand to the slowly darkening red mark resting just under his left eye, and the image of the burns marring the left side of Tubbos face sear themselves across his mind's eye. His brother's gaze is still somehow hollow. The realization that if Tommy hit him right now Techno probably wouldn't stop him somehow isn't as satisfying as he would have hoped, and he finds the emptiness behind his eyes wrenching his stomach. 

“Aren't you even gonna try to fight back??” There’s something sharp and angry cutting at the inside of his chest and maybe just maybe this will make it hurt a little less.  
Techno sighs softly, shrugging off his cloak. He’d shed his armor at some point, leaving him in his ridiculous white blouse, tattered and smeared with ash.

“Are you sure you wanna do this Tommy?” He says it with a laugh curling around the words like venom, like hysteria, but neither of them are anywhere close to humor as Tommy nods once, sharply. 

Tommys watched Techno fight Fundy, but he realizes now that match was just a game. Because Tommy is better than Fundy, but Techno moves like he was molded from spilled blood and sand and the sound a fist makes striking the soft hollow of Tommys throat. Tommy chokes, his mind overridden by the primal instinct to gasp for air, and Techno sweeps a leg into the back of his knees, following him to the ground as he grabs a fistfull of Tommys shirt.

“ _STOP!_ ”

They both freeze to look up at the higher catwalks, where a small figure is standing, dusted with flour and shaking with rage. Her dark silver-streaked hair is tied back in a messy bun, and somehow her tiny frame takes up more space than both of them combined as she stares down at them, radiating wrath, her accent thickening her words in her anger.

“What are you two _doing?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I like this but I got stuck and I needed words on the page


	11. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! this fic sorta became a lot darker than intended!!! But on the BRIGHT side, this is hopefully gonna be the last really dark chapter for a while. there are VERY MUCH some tw shit for this one, the chapter's shorter than I would like, cuz i cut some stuff after realizing how bad it got so that you can read the fic w/out this chapter and still have it make sense. Ill put a summary at the end if u need it <3 also sorry for bullying the boy but its better from here!!!!! i promise im not a monster i just uhhhhh project my issues onto fictional pigman  
> TW!!: pretty explicit self harm, disassociation, some fairly dark self talk, technos voices, etc

The voices are always louder after a fight. They get louder the bloodier it is, and it's been awhile since he’s been involved in anything quite as violent as the festival. Their cheers echo in his skull against the inside of his ears screaming so loud that he wonders sometimes how on earth no one else can hear them, can hear their chants and their roars. To be honest he isn't sure if they’re some kind of 6th sense, or something far less supernatural in the form of long honed instincts manifesting in an admittedly somewhat messed up way, but the voices always know things a moment before he does. Sometimes the voices lie but they aren't always wrong, telling him sometimes when someone draws an arrow at the back of his head, when a weapon someone dropped might be close enough for him to grab. But they get so much louder after he comes back from the quiet, that hollow place where nothing hurts and everything is easier. They're practically screaming now. They tend to get upset when he doesn't finish a fight.

They’re howling right now, screaming and begging for blood, snarling and chanting. He can almost hear the banging of people's feet against the tiers of the arena, against the wood of the floor. He's positive the angry baker woman introduced herself, but he can barely hear her speak over how desperately the voices of the arena want his brother dead. And while normally he would be pretty confident in his ability to ignore them - he's been doing it for a long time and has gotten quite good at it, on his better days he can barely hear them - he’s already hurt enough people today. 

His eyes cut to his youngest brother, their families heart beating heart since he’d first stared up at them with sky blue eyes too big for his face and  _ immediately  _ tried to bite Will. His face is smeared with soot and Techno honestly isn't sure if the kid has realized that there have been tears cutting tracks through the ash since he came out his friends room. 

He didn't mean to hurt him. He's never wanted to hurt his family. He would never hit his brother, not in earnest, but between the voices and the hollow place and the difference between what he sees and what he feels it's easy to forget. Is easy to slip just that little bit out of sync with his body, and in that time the voices are screaming for blood and his brother is pinned underneath him with a fear in his eyes and his hands are shaking and he's never wanted this he’s never wanted to hurt his family his  _ brothers - _ well. 

Clearly he doesn't have the same level of control that he thought he did. 

He knows that he can't trust himself but he… he thought he could trust his blood soaked hands with this one thing. This one, easy,  _ simple _ thing. Apparently he shouldn't have cut himself even that much slack. He should have known better than to think he could touch something without breaking it. 

The new woman is talking, she is small and intense and radiates quiet competence and he knows in the same way that he knows the shape of the hilt of his blade that if he stays any longer he will give her more reason for the fear in her eyes and he will never be able to forgive himself. In all fairness, the list of things he will never forgive himself for is quite long, but not many of them were in front of his baby brother. She reaches for him, still speaking but her words aren't quite coming across. He catches her wrist where she reaches for him and gently releases it when she flinches away. It's easy to slip through the space between her and the wall, and disappear silently into his room, bolting the door. 

He never wanted this. He never wanted to become this. When did he lose sight of what he wanted to be? When did he lose sight of his goal, to show his brothers that he could be good at something? When did he decide not to come home? 

Without thinking he finds himself curled on a nest of blankets in the corner, the bed between him and the door. The most defensible position in the room. Also where he has slept these past few nights. Slowly he draws  _ Obliterator _ , running his thumb up the flat of the blade. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Let the blade cut ever so slightly into the meat of his hand as he runs it down along the edge, and he grits his teeth as he forces himself to feel the pain even as his mind tries to retreat from it. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Blood drips down the plane of the blade, slowly absorbed by the layers and layers of shimmering enchantments. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Pain burns through his hand, wrapped around the blade with no regard for his personal safety, the enchantments searing a brand against his skin and cutting through a half dozen scars perfectly matching the shape of the wound that's formed. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

He grits his teeth, and forces himself all the way back into his body. His hand burns, and something cracks in his chest. For the first time in more years than he can count his vision blurs, and his next exhale chokes on a sob.

He stays there until the cramps in his back muscles beg for mercy, blood weeping from the half-cauterized gash across the palm of his hand, tears running down his face as he chokes on wrenching sobs that tear from his throat as if barbed. 

He wonders if his father would be ashamed of what he's become. 

He misses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its technos pov and hes still pretty out of it, he made the chat canon and i grabbed that in my angsty little hands and fucking SPRINTED essentially the voices have been quiet of late but after the festival they got loud. really loud. hes really really mad at himself for hurting tommy, and he doesnt really process anything about niki besides: small. angry. baker?? scared of him. He retreats to his room, where he forcibly uhhh whatever the opposite of disscociating is ive always called it snapping back. he uses s/h for this. yes, this is a thing that can work. dont do it. do not do it. its ass. trust me. he then sobs on the floor of his room for a pretty significant length of time, before admiting only to the dark and empty room that he wants his dad. pogChamp. if u chose to skip the chapter, as a gift I will tell u the only enjoyable thing we learned: one of tommys first acts as a baby was trying to bite will.


	12. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!! sorry its been a hot minute, holidays n shit :/. This chapters actually not sad and terrible!!! I know, shocking. anyway, enjoy!!!

_A day and a half ago._

He’d always had a good sense of where objects were in space, which was definitely for the best given his less than stellar eyesight. That was what woke him. Not any noise, but the feeling of someone in the room. He stirred slowly, sitting up from his slumped position in his chair to see his older brother bent over Tubbos bed. His hands were brisk and efficient as he carefully checked the younger boy's wounds, examining the burn marks and bandages with the ease of long practice. Technos eyes flicked to Wilbur. 

In the darkness of the room lit only by a half burned out torch his eyes shone, two bright disks the color of dried blood. Well. Four, he supposed, his own included. He still forgot some days that he wasn't alone. There had been days, days he was never sure if they were the worst ones or the best ones, where he had almost forgotten that he had once been half of a whole. That he was missing the other part of himself. After living with that gap for so long there was something incredibly disorienting about having Techno in his life, as if reaching down to press against a wound only to find unblemished skin. It was a long moment before Techno spoke, softer than he'd heard him since he'd returned.

“Do you have magma cream in your alchemy chests?”

Wilbur blinked up at him with a slight furrow in his brow. "Yea, I have some, but I think it's a bit late for fire resistance." 

He winced as the words left his tongue, but Techno simply sighed softly, something awful and raw flickering across his face. He spoke so quietly that Will had to strain to hear it.

"I didn't know, Wilbur. I didn't know he was ours." 

Wilburs eyebrows shot up at the phrasing. Theirs. Like they had been Phil's after he found them, like Phil (Dad, by then) had explained Tommy was theirs as much as his own when he had brought home the terrified shivering toddler. Dad had always had a soft spot for strays, same soft spot Techno had always had. Out of the two of them, Wilbur had been the one to kill spiders as children. Techno would defend them, saying they lived here as much as everyone else. How far they'd both come. 

Techno sighed again, running a bandaged hand along the hilt of his blade. 

"If you add regen potion to magma cream till it reaches a consistency close to honey, it works a charm on burns. It heals them quicker, but mostly it'll make the scars heal less rigid." Techno paused, shrugging slightly. "I've never really had much use for it of course, but I've seen it's work. It's effective."

Wilbur stared at him for a long moment before tugging a slight smile onto his face, gesturing Techno over as he rifled through his work chests as quietly as he could. 

"Since when are you an alchemist? You never had much interest in them when we were kids."

Techno leaned against the doorframe as Wilbur worked, absently picking at his bandaged hand as he gave a slight shrug.

"I learn whatever gives me an edge. Potions, tactics, history." A smirk flickers across his face, his eyes lighting up with memory. "Sun Tzu."

Wilbur groaned deeply, glaring over the unearthed jar of magma cream to meet his brothers smirk. "Shut _up_ about Sun Tzu. God, I forgot about your obsession with the guy. You slept with Art of War under your pillow for _years_." 

Techno drew himself up straight, smirk spreading into a grin as he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"The opportunity to secure ourselves against defeat - "

"I can't hear you!! I am covering my ears, I am COVERING my ears, "

" agaiNST DEFEAT LIES IN OUR OWN HANDS,"

"I AM GOING TO PUT ROCKS IN YOUR BED TECH -"

" _OUR OWN HANDS, BUT THE OPPORTUNITY TO DEFEA -'_

 _"TECHNO_ **_BLAADDEEE!!!!_ **"

They both froze at the soft groan from the bed behind them.

The quiet noise yanked them back to reality, away from teasing each other like children. Wilbur spun on his heel, darting to Tubbos side. Wilbur rested a hand on his forehead, then checked his pulse at his throat. Both good, no sign of fever. Tuboo quieted a moment later, going still again with a huff. Not awake yet then. Wilbur was ever so slightly glad. Tommy would be _livid_ if Tubbo woke up in the few hours Will had managed to pry him from the bedside to get some actual sleep.

Wilbur turned back to face his workstation, a joke on his lips, but there was no one there. The room was empty but for him and Tubbo, unconscious behind him.

Terror pulled at his chest, and his eyes fell to the jar of magma cream on his makeshift workspace like a touchstone. He hadn't known about the magma cream, so Techno had to have been real. He had been real. This was real. Right?

Wilbur strode over to the workbench, grasping the jar of magma cream almost desperately. Techno hadn't even touched him. Sure, he'd seen him, heard his voice, but that didn't mean...he knew magma creams properties well enough. Maybe he had already known this, maybe his brother _hadn't_ been here, he knew his mind of late wasn't quite - wait. 

His eyes caught on something that had been resting on the workbench, hidden behind the jar of magma cream. He lowered the jar gently to the floor, scooping up the object and turning it over in his fingers. A potion vial. Not one of his, the shape of the vial was smoother, the liquid darker and more viscous. Regeneration potion, professionally made. He paused on the stopper, staring at the wax seal that promised it unused. The Hypixel arena crest. There was no way he could have already had this. He sank against the wall, thumb pressed against the wax symbol, vial warm in his hands like a tiny living thing.

Real.

This was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to add a little suffering. a smidge. for Spice.


	13. An Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ELLO!!! There is a bit of gore/body horror at the start of this one, but I dont think its too bad. also im sorry for how many OCs there are in this chapter, but I promise you none of them will become relevant ever again. I just really like outsider pov. its fun to write :)

_Three Years Ago_

The storm is only getting worse, lashing against the windows like a living angry thing. Malika isn't really paying attention except to hope that the rider they sent to the next village is safe. Taras is young, but he's the fastest horseman in the village, and goodness knows the fallen man needs it. He groans softly on the floor of the temple, and she winces at the sound. God, she isn't qualified for this. She's a village cleric, the most exciting thing she usually oversees is childbirth.

His blood has soaked through the fourth - fifth? - set of bandages, pooling into the flagstones of the church. She runs a hand through his storm-soaked hair, making an apologetic noise as he stirs. She doesn't recognize the language he speaks, but his smile is kind despite the agony carved into the lines of his eyes. She apologizes over and over as she lifts his head to tilt the potion down his throat. He pats her knee consolingly in his last few moments before the potion kicks in.

She wishes he weren't kind. Watching his body seize up with agony as the regeneration tries to repair the mangled ruin of his back would be easier if he wasn't kind. Holding his head and murmuring nonsense as he screamed would be so much easier if he hadn't been kind. 

She had drunk a regen potion before, for a broken arm, and she remembered the way it made every nerve feel like lightning buzzing under her skin. She doesn't want to imagine what the broken shards of bone spearing from the bloody canyon of flesh that remained of his back felt like. She just holds his head as the storm worsens, as finally Taras returns with the falconer from the neighboring village. She shoos the boy from the church, and looks up at the old woman with rawhide skin and black eyes that resembled those of the birds she trained. Her voice was practical when she spoke.

"We're going to have to carve out what's left of his wings."

_Less than three years ago, but not by much_

Nobody really understands the fallen man. He speaks with broken grammar and a heavy accent, and has spent much of the six months he has been in the village twitching anxiously and staring in the direction of the sunset. His back has healed slowly and painfully, and based on his winces when he does anything more exciting then walking from one end of the village to the other it doesn't feel very far healed. But the one thing that they do know about him is he's very useful. 

He’d spent two days fiddling with one of the horses plows, and just before the farmer got around to taking an ax to him like he'd been half joking about, he had backed off and the farmer had realized that the modifications made to the plow made it not only easier to use but also far less likely to break. 

He seemed to do this a lot. Fix things, or change things, or rearrange something to make it more efficient or more effective. They had tried to pay him more than once but he always seemed to refuse. As best as the villagers could figure out through his accent and broken stumbling language, he thought them saving his life was payment enough. The blacksmith - once a cleric, but a rather stressful storm night in a blood-soaked church had changed her mind about her career path - strongly agreed. The village had done plenty for him, and in her opinion they were more than owed everything he did in return. If she was being honest she was a little bit bitter about how many regeneration potions he had ended up using. They weren't cheap. 

_A bit over two years ago_

It was a full year before he could stand to the pressure of a pack between his shoulders, and he had spent the whole year walking and training and making measurements of the stars. The cartographer of the village had attempted to help him at one point, but when he had seen the distances the fallen man was planning on traveling, he had gone grey around the corners of his mouth and sworn off speaking to him about his maps. The blacksmith had looked over his shoulder, once or twice.

"Trying to get that far away from us? I thought we were on good terms."

He had frowned, thinking carefully as though trying to put words together in his head before he strung them from his mouth.

"I have…sons. My boys." He tapped the spot on the map, so painfully far away that she couldn't even imagine it. "Have to be home. My boys."

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, strange and sky-blue and so full of warmth she almost felt as though she were intruding. He brushed his fingertips along the marking on the map again, his voice so gentle it was almost prayer.

"My boys."

She didn't ask what could possibly be so important again. 

It was the last frost of spring, just under a year from when he had come crashing into their life with an arrow in his shoulder and a blade torn through his limbs. He hugged her gently, and pulled from his belt a rolled up strip of leather, offering it to her with a grin. She unrolled it to reveal a dozen regeneration potions. The same number she had used on him all those nights ago. He howled dramatically at the punch to his shoulder, as if she didn't know exactly where to hit him so it didn't bother his scars. She gave him a sword as a parting gift, and he smiled far broader than she thought the gift entailed, ruffling her hair with an affectionate,

"Goodbye, little blade."

She pretended to be angry as she fixed her hair to cover wiping at her eyes, giving him a shove as he hesitated.

"Go on, get out of here. Go find your boys, fallen man."

_Two (One and a bit? Maybe?) Years Ago_

The man with the green and white hat is something of an urban legend, so Neshi first thought was that this guy was some kind of jokester. But between the borderline incomprehensible accent and the blindingly friendly demeanor, they were starting to have doubts about that. The man was so disarmingly polite that Neshi genuinely had no idea how he had ended up on their boat, asking weirdly specific questions with sparkling sky-blue eyes and an accent like a mouth full of mud. Yes their boat would be able to traverse this sea, yes they could sail it alone, no they didn't have any dependents, no they didn't have any allergies. 

Okay, they reflected as they stared down the point of the sword to meet the blond's apologetic smile, maybe they should have seen this coming. The two things this man was known for were being disarmingly polite, and being borderline unstoppable in the direction of his goal. So maybe they should have gotten a little bit more nervous when he had started asking questions about their ability to sail the ship. But it wasn't every day an urban legend wanders onto one's dock, certainly not one with such an odd tale. They figured it couldn't hurt to entertain it.

About halfway across the sea they explained as much to the man with the curious hat, and he had to sit down on the deck from laughing so hard. And while in the end they end up a week behind schedule and over a hundred clicks off course, overall the man had been incredibly polite, and he had restrung all of their trawler nets to cover more ground and pick up fewer rocks, so to be honest they aren't even that upset. It made a damn good story.

_One year ago, more or less_

Edilid has to admit, she's never seen someone so genuinely and innocently bewildered by encountering a sexist pig in the wild. The man's accent is thick but recognizable, by her guess a few thousand clicks west of here. Long way from home. It isn't the accent that catches her ear though, but instead how genuinely offended he seems to be by the discovery that the man he's speaking to believes that his female crewmates are inherently inferior. 

She has to admit there is something very entertaining about the horrified tone of the stranger's voice. Felgild is pretty well known for being a shithead, but it's sweet to see this guy so upset on the behalf of strangers. She almost feels bad for how hard he's about to get his ass handed to him.

Or she does until Felgild lunges, and the stranger steps lightly to the side, hooking a foot around the larger man's ankle and reaching up to the back of Felgilds head to slam his face brutally into a table of the small tavern. The crunch echoes through the room, the only sound Felgilds violent swearing as the stranger brushes his hands off on his loose green...gown thing before launching into a stern lecture about manners and terms of engagement. 

Between the blood dripping from his broken nose and the sternly disappointed tone of the strangers voice, Felgild actually shrinks in himself over the course of the lecture, nodding and mumbling his assent at the correct moments. 

The tavern watches in silent awe as the stranger crouches to set the assholes nose, gently teasing him for having had his weight off center when he lunged. 

Edilid does not offer strangers free rides.

Come dawn, Edilid gives the blond stranger a free ride. 

On the deck of her warship he teaches her how to move around an opponent like he had in the tavern, lightning quick steps almost a dance. She's also pretty sure he rebuilt the rudder. Weird guy. She wishes him luck when they part ways, and to her surprise, she means it.

_Three (Or maybe five?) Months Ago_

Hani knows mama said to leave the pale man alone, that he got sick in storms, but she wanted to play. It wasn't her fault he got stuck here during storm season, and he couldn't possibly be sick for _all_ of them. Storm season was the best season. Every year she asked the clouds to stay a little bit longer, so she could play in the wind and sideways rain a few more days. 

She slipped through the door of the guest building he lived in, walking on the sides of her feet like he had taught her, and froze. He wore only sleep pants, his bare back to the door. His bare back covered in scars.

There were two impossibly massive crescents of twisted pink and violet flesh that started between his shoulder blade and neck and disappeared into the waistband of his pants where they rested on the curve of his spine. They were immense, not just in length but also in width. She was pretty sure if she put her hand on it it might not cover the whole breadth of the mark, and not just because she had small hands. Countless smaller scars decorated the edges of those two like starbursts, and on the back of his shoulder was another scar, cleaner edged, like an old scratch from a fish gutting knife. She didn't think it was from a fish gutting knife.

In the silence of the room she heard a tiny choked noise of pain and found herself thinking of Uncle Likeke, who had a scar from his boat wrecking against a reef that hurt in the rain. She wondered if it would hurt more if his scar was bigger. She thought it might.

Hani asked the storm clouds if maybe they would consider leaving early this year.

  
_Either last week or two weeks from now. Probably._

“Lyolf! Long time mate!”

Lyolf looked up from the bar he tended, his eyes widening in shock.

“Well I’ll be damned, if it isn't Philza Minecraft, as I live and breathe! Long time no see! I’ll be honest with ya, I figured one of your adventures finally got ya killed.”

The blond makes a face, leaning against the bar.

“Surprisingly enough, it wasn't so much a natural hazard this time.”

Lyolf shot him a playful grin.

“Not even a baby zombie?”

He chuckled at his old customers' deep groan at the long standing joke.

“Someday you're gonna have to let that go.”

“Not a chance.” He finished wiping down a tankard, looking up to meet Phils gaze. “So I presume you're looking for your boys?”

The warmth in the old travelers face vanished, accenting the harsh edges he seemed to have gained in the past few years.

“What can you tell me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'develop a consistent writing style andras!!' no. die.


	14. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a friendly reminder that if yall do ANY shipping on this fic I will hunt u for sport <3\. this is family time ONLY.   
> TW: wilbur does have a panic attack, loosely based on my personal firsthand studies on the experience, so if that'll b triggering or upsetting its right after the section with the new character so take care and as always enjoyyyy

His pillow was trying to escape. He tightened his grip, burrowing his face into the warm surface.

"Tubbo. Tubbo I gotta piss."

He whined in protest, opening his eye just enough to glare at his best friend. 

"Noo. Pillow." 

Tommy grinned at him, the dim light softening the edges of his face. Tubbo mused that in this lighting he almost looked like a person, and not a terrible little gremlin. He tugged again, attempting to extract his shirt from Tubbos iron grip. With a grumble Tubbo released it, scowling blearily up at him.

"Why are you abandoning me. You...mean person." 

He burrowed back into the blankets before Tommy could answer, the half-awareness of midnight fading back into sleep.

Tommy grinned down at Tubbo, shifting him a bit more to the side despite his grumbled protests to make sure his weight was off his bad side. Tubbo said his bandaged limbs had mostly stopped hurting after they added numbing agents to the burn cream, but yesterday he had laid on top of his bandaged arm for half an hour and had been miserable all afternoon. 

Tommy paused in the doorway, eyes catching on him. He'd been away from him for more than a few minutes exactly once, sleeping in his own room at Wilbur's behest. His nightmares had been….bad. So bad that he came to with  _ Techno _ of all people comforting him. He'd die before he admitted it, but his oldest brother's low steady voice ordering him to count breaths with him had been surprisingly comforting. 

It had been Technos idea, sleeping next to Tubbo. Him and Wilbur had argued after Will said his posture was bad enough without him sleeping in a chair, and when Tommy had complained to Tubbo about it his best friend had offered the world's most obvious solution. So here he was, the evening after his best friend had woken up, grinning like an idiot from the doorway. Shaking himself slightly, he darted down the hallway. He'd be right back.

Gold eyes glowed in the dim light of the forest, large auburn ears twitching to try and catch any hint of sound. The screech of a bird startled him into letting out a string of muffled curses as he leapt a foot in the air. He flattened his ears against his head with a whine. He might have near-perfect night vision, but he was a city boy at heart. For goodness sakes, he didn't even like the forest during the _day_. 

His pack cut into his shoulders as he walked through the woods. The book wasn't large or thick, just a handful of pages of chicken scratch, but it weighed on him like it was carved of stone. Heh. Stone would be lighter. He shifted the pack a little bit higher on his shoulders, scanning the trees again for the tiny scratches that he had been gifted. They weren't particularly hard to spot but this wasn't exactly his favored terrain. 

He had hated to go to him for help finding them, to admit that he still needed him in any respect, but he was the only person that Fundy had been almost positive would know where they were hiding. He did of course. He knew everything that happened in these lands. Fundy had asked about a price but he had refused to name one, calling it a favor for an old friend. Honestly he would rather have a price upfront than an abstract favor down the line. Friends. They had been a lot of things, over the years, but he wasn't sure if they were quite  _ friends _ . 

His eyes, sharp in the dim light of the half-filled moon, caught the last marker carved into the bark of a nearby oak. He should be close by now. He sank to the ground, spreading his fingers across the earth, and  _ listened _ .

It was a little disturbing to be perfectly honest. The quiet. Usually when he listened like this he could hear quiet conversations, stoves crackling, people settling in their homes. The sound of life, to him, was quiet chatter over dinner tables, the creaking of boardwalk planks, the distant wash of water against the shore. The forest, with its quiet broken only by chirps of birds and faint hisses and growls in the far distance sounded wrong. He focused harder. He was looking for something specific, something he had always been good at finding. There. A spot where the ground sounded hollow. 

He straightened to his feet, dusting moss off the knees of his pants before slowly approaching the spot in the hill that had sounded off. Hesitantly he reached forward into the brush and grinned when his hand vanished into what should have been solid earth. As much as he hated asking him for help, he had to admit his ex was rarely wrong.

“And - and Tubbo? Tubbo? He's not on our side! He's  _ lying  _ to us Techno, they're all LYING to us, and Tommy wont believe me, I’ve tried telling him, - “ His breath caught his throat in a choked gasp as he leaned back against the door. Techno stared at him from the bed, his face soft with sleep and confusion.   
“Will? How did you get in here?”   
“I picked the lock. Needed to see that you. See you were real? I think.” He shook his hands out again. He couldn't get feeling back into his fingers, but that wasn't important right now, because he had to talk to his brother. Tech would know what to do, he always knew what to do - his head snapped up to meet his brother's gaze. 

Since when was he right there? He had moved silently, he always seemed to, darting across the room like a shadow like a ghost like he wasn't there like he  _ wasn't there  _ and maybe he wasn't. Or maybe Wilbur hadn't slept in two days again, his vision was getting grey at the edges but if he slept it would be worse it would get worse and then and then and then - a hand on his shoulder caught him. Touch. Touch was real. Touch had always been real.

Techno caught him. Of course he did. Tech always caught him. When he was fourteen he broke his arm in two places. Dad had been out of his mind with worry, asking how on earth Will had thought that could be a good idea. Will hadn't met his eyes, just muttered ‘He would’ve caught me.’ 

He didn't really think to be honest, just sank into his twins arms with a sound that was either a sob or a cut off scream. He wasn't sure. Techno was as hesitant as ever, but so  _ so _ warm. No one was ever as warm as his brother. Some days Will thought he might have been shivering since he left. He wasn't shivering now. He might've been sobbing. Or laughing. He honestly wasn't sure at this point. But he was warm, truly warm, for the first time in  _ years _ and that was what mattered.

Technoblade had literally no idea what to do here. Will was the clever one, the one who talked them out of trouble with the silver tongue and lighting smile. Wilbur with his ideas and his songs and his dreams, dreams of leading L’manburg or becoming a writer or changing the world. Wilbur, kind brilliant incredible Wilbur, shaking apart in his arms with the force of his sobs. 

Techno had never been gentle, his fingers too rough and calloused for his brother's guitar. He hoped he was gentle enough for this, carding his hands through Wills hair like Phil used to when they were small enough to sit in his lap as he told them stories. Techno had broken so many things with broad clumsy hands over the years. He wasn't sure if he could forgive himself for breaking this. 

Will had always been skinny, but he felt almost frail as Techno lifted him into his blanket nest on the far side of the room. In the past hour or so Wilbur had faded from his white-hot hystria to an uneasy sleep, and Techno intended to keep him there. He had failed. He knew that much. He might not know what had happened exactly, details and names and whatnot, but he knew one thing. He was supposed to keep his brothers from getting hurt, and they were hurting so very much. 

Well. Perhaps he might not know how to protect Will from whatever monsters clawed at the inside of his skull, but at the very least he could hold vigil over him while he fought. So Techno settled, cross legged with his back to Will even though it made his instincts burn, and drew  _ Obliterator _ to rest in front of him as he stood guard between his little brother and the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight so I was originally planning on not mentioning any nonplatonic relationships but a couple crept into the seams. im sorry but fundy and dreams dynamic is a) really interesting b) SO funny its SO GODDAMN FUNNY   
> but anyway none of the relationships will be more than like, a throwaway line or a side note. I might write more in this verse from different angles, specifically the twins growing up, but im not sure. my rules say im not allowed to start any new projects till I finish this one. ANYWAY LOVE YALL SEE YA IN A BIT!!!!


	15. The Prodigal Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact about the chapter title: I barely know tf that means I just vibe with it. I think its a bible thing? I was kicked out of sunday school at like age five for stealing the lil crackers. I know this chapter took a while and the main reason is it just did NOT want to be written. Im still not happy with it but here we are I guess :). hopefully next chapter will be more fun to write! I gotta say tho, I ADORE fundy. Little bastard man. I love him so much. Look at that fluffy little criminal.

He refills the glass bottle from the creek that runs through the far edge of the ravine, running a hand over the back of his prickling neck. Carefully corking the last bottle he whips around as quickly as he can to see... nothing out of the ordinary. Huh. He could've sworn he saw - 

"Hey Tommy!" 

He whips around with a startled shriek, the strangers reflexes the only thing saving him from the wild swing of his sword.

He lunges forward, forcing the stranger to stumble back and in the process pushing them into the light. He blinked at the familiar face, gold eyes wide with panic as he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Fundy?" 

The fox hybrid relaxed, hands slowly dropping to his sides at Tommy's clear recognition of him. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle - "

"You've got a lot of fuckin nerve showing your face here."

Fundy took another half step back, his eyes widening as he stumbled into something resembling an explanation. He doesn't make it far, a broad-shouldered figure sliding from the shadows of the ravine.

"Toms, you good? I heard you scream."

Fundy pales, shifting his position to be flat against the wall of the ravine as his expression shifts from wariness to abject terror.

"You're. You're the blood god. Holy shit. I am going to die. I am  _ going  _ to die oh god oh god,"

Techno turns to Tommy, who is still glaring at Fundy as though he hopes to perhaps singe the fur off an ear.

"Do you know him?"

Tommy shrugs, hurt lining the supposedly careless gesture. 

"He's a traitor. One of Schlatts people." 

Technos stomach turns cold, and the blood god steps forward, drawing  _ Obliterator  _ from his hip in a single fluid gesture. 

"Who knows you're here."

The fox boy's ears flatten against his head, the darting of his eyes making the next statement into a question. 

"No one?"

The blood god raises the blade, resting it gently on the stone a handbreadth from his exposed throat.

"I don't like being lied to, little fox."

His skin goes from pale to chalk, tears welling in his eyes as he tries to edge away from the blade.

"Dream! Dream, he told me, Dream told me how to find you. He knows I'm here. No one else, I promise."

The blood god studies him for a long moment before pulling back slightly. He's telling the truth. Tommy darts into the space he's left, snarling a question into the fox boys face, but a soft shift of movement behind them catches Technos attention.

Wilbur is pressed against the wall of the ravine perhaps a dozen feet up the way, staring down at the scene with hollow eyes. There is something about the way that his gaze darts from shadow to shadow, dragging across the upper edges the ravine like claws under skin that sparks concern in Technos chest. He reaches out a hand to his brother but instead of taking it Wilbur darts forward, the movement almost frantic as he ends up with his chin hooked over Technos shoulder and his face half buried in his hair. Techno draws him in slightly, eyebrows almost at his hairline as he leans into his brother in return, curling around each other like children. Wilbur had always felt cold to him, but now more than ever, cool water on the ruin of his soul. He pulls away slightly to meet his brother's eyes.

"Will? You alright?"

Wilbur leans forward to press their foreheads together and Technos ten years old again, whispering a plot to steal the cooling mince pies from the baker's window rack. Will pulls back, the memory fading like mist at dawn.

"No, I'm not. I think I will be though." He grins down at Techno with that quicksilver smile that had gotten them into so much trouble over the years.

"I think I will be. Love ya Tech"

He slips away to where the background music of Tommy yelling was now accompanied by hysterical sobbing, leaving Techno frozen half in the shadows.  _ Love ya Tech. _ Like it was obvious. Like it was somehow the most natural thing in the world to care about him, to love him. The voices had been quiet for the most part the past few days, but they chattered now, sneering and giggling amongst themselves. He ran his thumb down the hilt of  _ Obliterator _ , the ridges of the hilt more familiar than his father's face. 

_ Love ya Tech _ .

Christ, Wilbur. Why?

"Tommy, that's enough." 

The hand he rests gently on his little brother's shoulder is roughly ripped off as he spins to face him. His blond hair is flattened on one side from sleep and his blue eyes are flashing with rage in the low light. “He's a traitor Wilbur! He was our friend, and he  _ betrayed _ us. We need to find out why he’s here!”

Wilbur takes another step forward, gently pushing down the arm that held his blade. “Then why don't we _ ask _ him, Tommy. You're scaring him.” 

Tommy turned, teeth bared in a snarl he had picked up from Techno before he could speak. However instead of the enemy he was so clearly convinced he would find, the person at his feet was a childhood friend, shaking, filthy, and terrified. His golden eyes were wide as he stared up at Tommy, ears against his skull, and Wilbur saw the moment in Tommy's face that he realized what he had done. It was only there for a fraction of a second of course, his baby brother was never one for being in the wrong. His eyes shuttered, his jaw locking as he visibly geared up to reach the logical conclusion that everyone  _ else _ was clearly in the wrong.  Wilbur knew it wasn't healthy and would likely screw the kid over in the long run, but he couldn't help the glimmer of amusement as he watched Tommy firmly decide that he was backing off because  _ he _ wanted to, not because he felt  _ bad _ or anything.

Another choked off sob caught his attention, and he turned to face Fundy, who was doing an impressive job of pulling himself together. His ears were no longer flat against his head, his tears had been dried, and he had produced a slightly tattered journal from somewhere. He still hadn’t moved, muscles tense in the excruciating stillness of a prey animal in the presence of an apex predator, but as Wilbur approached he uncoiled from the corner. 

Pride welled in Wilburs chest as the kid he’d half-raised lifted his chin, gaze steady as he held out a book with hands that barely shook. And then, as he always had to get out of trouble, he began to talk.

“Hey, look I surprised you, that's my bad, that's my mistake.” He shot a grin to Tommy, disarming in its friendliness, confidence growing with each word. “I startled you, I get it! You were scared! We’re all scared, these days, yeah?”

His shoulders were back as he smiled, brushing around Wilbur in that odd catlike way he'd always had as he offered the book for him to hold. 

"Days are tough right now! So I've decided to help!" He spun, returning his back to the wall with a flourish that almost managed to pass it off as casual rather than a strategic choice. His canines glittered in the low light as he grinned at them, entire body vibrating with repressed tension.

"I mean, it's not like I was ever  _ really _ on Schlatts side, I was just gathering intel." With this he gestured to the book, absently held in Wilburs hand. "Let's be honest here! Me, serving  _ Schlatt _ ? That would be ridiculous, I mean, come on!"

Wilbur stared for a long moment, letting the silence stretch like taffy, but to his surprise it was neither of them who broke it. His twins harsh laugh caught the confused attention of everyone in the room. The three of them turned to stare at him, where he was leaned against a ravine wall a few feet away with a hand resting lazily on the hilt of his blade. He met Wilburs gaze with a cocked eyebrow.

"Where did you  _ find _ this kid Will? He's got some nerve showing up here like this, with a speech like that to boot."

Wilbur sighed, running a hand through his hair and glancing at Fundy, who was maintaining an impressive charade of calm given the tension in his shoulders. 

"I sorta adopted him as a teenager? It was an accident."

"Yeah, he was like a second big brother. Before he BETRAYED US"

"Tommy, enough."

It might've been a long time since he'd had the chance, but he could read Techs face easy as if it were his own, and the flash of hurt in his eyes at that comment was unmistakable. Wilbur couldnt put his finger on what shifted, but his brother Tech pushed off the wall and the legendary Blood God stepped forward to tower over Fundy. He wasn't much taller than the kid, but in sheer physical presence the difference was immense. The grin he favored the smaller with was inhuman.

"I like you, fox. So, lets see what you brought us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway for anyone not aware I dont write sad endings because they make me depressed so this DOES have a happy ending, ish. we just have to get there!!! also this is my first long piece of creative writing and also the first fic Ive ever posted so uhhh if it feels weirdly paced or formatted or w/e there yo go. as always, love yall, comments are food for the soul so if youre considering leaving one pls do I treasure each and every one


	16. His Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey!!!! did yall miss me? my update schedule is modeled after technos upload schedule <3 also idk if anyone noticed, but I added an approximate chapter count to this. It might change, but im sure of one thing. We're getten toward a crescendo of of some form, and I for one am very excited to see how the song will play

Wilbur would love to know what the genuine **fuck** the two youngest members of their great and bountiful cave in the ground were doing. Their yelling had distracted him from the war room, so now he was standing at the edge of one of the countless ledges that lined the ravine, watching them argue below. 

At first glance they appeared to be playing a pretty standard game of 'throw a pine cone into a bucket'. However, spreading out from them like a blast radius was an array of at least a dozen other games, playing cards, coins, colorful rocks, one or two potted plants, and a skull.

Tubbo was arguing with all the confidence of someone in a courtroom as he waved his arms at the chaos.

"No, look! Your king is in check and you're on my property, so that means I get a free go fish!"

Tommy, standing on the other side of the pinecone bucket with all the righteous authority of someone unwilling to admit anything resembling wrongdoing, replied fast enough that Wilbur almost lost the first few words. 

"No, because I got the most recent set in go fish! If you didn't get the most recent set, you have to be in attack formation, and you're using a defence form. And my king isn't even in check, your rook is still paralysed from my clerics Hold Person spell"

Tubbos eye narrows and he waves...is that a bone? He angrily waves a skeleton bone capped with a pinecone at his best friend.

"We agreed when we added chess that the rooks are structures, not people. So Hold Person doesn't work on my rook, I told you that when you tried to transfer it from my knight last round but you didn't _listen_! And never mind all that, you're still on my property. You have to pay me the rent even if you don't let me go fish. I know you're getting low on money Tommy, you haven't gotten to pass go since you lost the poker tournament."

Orange in the corner of his eye catches his vision, and he turns to see Fundy watching with a horrified awe usually reserved for beholding acts of violence. 

"Fundy, what game are they even _playing?_ "

Fundy snorts, replying without looking.

"Yes. Now shh, I want to see if Tubbo can make this."

Wilbur turns with a raised eyebrow to see Tommy holding a twisted ball of twigs about the size of his head, and Tubbo holding a bow aimed slack at the floor with an arrow on the string. His brow is furrowed in focus, his shoulders shifting nervously. A moment of silent conversation flickers between the two of them, too quick for him to read, but Tommy grins.

"Ready!"

Tubbo inhales, exhaling with a yell.

"PULL!"

Tommy throws the ball in the air, and Tubbo raises the bow, drawing the arrow to his cheek and loosing in a single fluid movement. For a fraction of a second it looks right on target, but instead it barely scuffs the outer edge of the ball before disappearing into the distance of the ravine. 

Wilburs eyebrows shoot up. He's never seen Tubbo miss at this kind of range. His gaze drops back to Tubbo, and _fuck_ he's an idiot. Of course his shooting is off. He can’t fucking see.

Tubbo is glaring at the ball on the ground like it personally offended him, but Tommy bounds over with a blinding grin. 

"You hit it! See, I told you! It's just practice, like your spelling shit!"

Tubbo raises his gaze to meet his friend, reluctant amusement curling at the edge of his mouth.

"Tommy, I suck at spelling."

His kid brother shakes his head so hard Wilbur is a little concerned about it falling off.

"Okay, not the point. It's harder for you, but you still read and write and shit, yea? So maybe the distance thing is a little harder, but you'll still do it! Also you're smarter than me anyway, so it works out in the end."

Tubbos hesitant smile spreads into a grin.

"Thomas Danger Caution Innit Minecraft. Did you just admit that I'm smarter than you?"

Wilbur turns away quickly, face buried in his hands to muffle his laughter as his kid brother's dumbstruck expression, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Thankfully Tommys indignant sputtering covers up the sound of both him and Fundys muffled giggles, and he glances up to meet the others amber gaze with a soft sigh.

"Look, Fundy. We haven't really gotten much of a chance to talk in the past few days. I know you're probably avoiding me -" a nervous flick of red-tufted ears confirms as much, if his suddenly evasive gaze didn't already, "but we do need to speak eventually." 

Wilbur reaches forward slowly, giving the shorter time to move before his hand settles on his shoulder. Fundy relaxes, a movement so small Wilbur likely would have missed it if he didn't know him so well.

"I'm sorry."

Wills eyebrows shoot up at the hesitant words, but he doesn't interrupt. Fundys eyes remain fixed on the wall just over his shoulder as he speaks. The words are uncharacteristically unrefined, with none of the dazzling polish he so often weaves into his tales.

"I'm sorry about the flag. That was wrong of me. And… I'm sorry I was so angry. It wasn't about the country. It was because you hurt me. And know that wasn't fair. To take it out like I did. I'm so, _so_ , sorry." He glances around the ravine before meeting Wilburs gaze with something too twisted to be quite called a smile. "How could I have known it would go this wrong?"

Wilbur studies him for a long drawn out moment, the sounds of the boys playing in the ravine below echoing against the walls as he stares at the teenager he once called his son. There's something different here. Something settled and serious that he didn't have before. Fundy had never been a particularly serious creature, but there was no playfulness in his firelight eyes now. 

Wilbur sighed softly as he pulled him forward by the shoulder, pressing his nose into the tangle of copper and silver curls as he embraced his boy. Tears pricked at his eyes as Fundy relaxed in his arms. He could feel claws against his shoulderblades from how tight Fundy was gripping him, but couldn't bring himself to scold him. His boy, his brilliant playful trickster. How did they get here? Playing games for war wounds and begging for a father's forgiveness? How did he let it get this far?

He pressed deeper into Fundys hair, smiling at the soft chirp as he ran a hand across the fox hybrids shoulders. God, he fucking missed his dad.

No.

He gritted his teeth, steeling himself. It had been three years since a childhood friend had thrown a mass of bloodied feathers on his doorstep with an apologetic shrug. Three years since said childhood friend had declared himself ruler of surrounding lands, unless anyone cared to stop him. His father was dead.

He would end this himself.

Whatever the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, love yall :)) leave a comment if u have anything to say! even if its just a paragraph of the letter A, I treasure each and every one :D  
> see yall again soon (maybe lol)


	17. The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rubs hands together gleefully] oh we gettin IN it now!!!!! next update is gonna be FUN hehehe  
> anyway love yall but special shout out to skelela my love for grammar checking this because I never really learned verb tenses properly I just write whatever I vibe with!!! youre my best friend also my favorite <3

Wilbur glances between the two of them, from the iron set of Tubbos jaw to Tommy twitching with anticipation. 

"Are you sure about this?"

They glance at each other and nod. Unsurprisingly, Tommy is the one to speak. "We’re as ready as we’re gonna be, ” He says firmly. “We wanna go home." 

Wilbur runs a hand through his hair and sighs. 

"I mean we weren't planning on attacking for another few days, but... if you're sure…" 

They nod again, faces sliding into familiar, grim masks. The cold masks of war are familiar to their features. No matter how many times he sees it, he is never going to find it any less disturbing. The way they lift their chins and set their feet into a ready stance… it yanks at something deep in his gut, something that claws at his brain and screams _you failed you failed you_ ** _failed_** _look at this look at them you have_ ** _failed_** _them_. 

He shakes it off.

"Well. I suppose we ought to get started then."

He knew that Techno had been under a bit of time pressure for the festival, but he hadn't realized how much that had changed things till he saw him standing at the war table, coaxing his hair into bewilderingly elaborate braids. There are dozens of them, curling along the sides of his head, weaving deftly into each other, coiling to form one long tail that disappears under his cloak. Wilbur steps closer and realizes golden wire is twisted through their lengths-it flashes as he moves, distracting and beautiful. Instead of whatever he had meant to say about the war map, he finds himself blurting out a different question entirely. 

"What on _earth_ have you done with your hair?" 

Techno glances up at him with a smirk. "It caught your attention, didn't it?" 

Wilbur can't help but stare. “It sure did,” He admits distractedly. 

His attention shifts to where the other three residents of their lovely ravine trickle into the war room. Tommy and Tubbo come in together, uncharacteristically quiet as they approach the table. Tommy rests his chin in Tubbos hair as they gaze at the battle plan of their childhood home. Fundy slinks in behind them. He glances nervously between the boys, as though he is expecting to be kicked out, but they shift wordlessly to make space for him. He hesitates only a moment before taking his place at the table.

They stand around the map of L’Manburgh, littered with tiny flags and markers, pages copied out of Fundy's journal marking the edges, noting barriers and weak points. Something aches deep in Wilbur’s chest as he takes it all in. His home was never meant to look like this. All he ever wanted was for them to be safe, independent, free. He never wanted this. He never wanted _war._

Techno drags two fingers along the line of the river that runs through the city, tapping on a circular marking. “This tower, can we climb it? Use it?"

Wilbur shakes off his reverie and leans over the table, humming thoughtfully. “We should be able to, and the height will definitely give us an advantage, but I worry about our resources." He runs a fingertip along the edge of the map, rapping his knuckles on the main city. "We don't have the kind of heavy weaponry that we’d need to hold the tower, and while we _might_ be able to convince Badlands to help, we really don't have the allies right now to make up for the weaponry disadvantage.”

Techno grins, wide and feral. “I can't entirely make up for the lack of people, but I have a _lot_ of resources. I mean, what do you think I've been doing for the past week and a half?"

"Avoiding me," Tubbo mutters darkly.

Techno dips his head, not quite meeting his gaze. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Tubbo looks up from the table. A thin-lipped smile stretches the scars that creep from under his bandages. It doesn't reach his good eye, which glints coldly as he speaks. “I think the permanent physical damage has already made me pretty uncomfortable,” He says mildly, “but the thought is _appreciated_.”

Technos fingers twitch for his blade hilt as he flinches back from the younger. Wilbur frowns, rapping his knuckles sharply on the table's edge. “Look, can we stay on task? Please?” He snaps, dragging a hand through already disheveled curls. “I don't know about you guys, but I would like to _survive_ to see the end of this. Now. Techno,” He turns, gesturing expectantly, “What have you been working on this week?”

Techno rolls his shoulders, hand dropping to the hilt of his blade as the corner of his mouth twitches up. “How about I show ya?”

He steps away from table, placing a hand on the enderchest in the corner. It opens for him in a flicker of violet. And from its depths he pulls a shimmering ingot of deep grey-brown, placing it on the table.

“Holy _fuck_ Techno, is that…?” Techno grins at Tommy in response, reaching back and pulling out another. And another. And another. Eventually he steps back from the table, gesturing to twenty ingots of the rarest material in existence.

“I figured we could use a little help.”

Wilbur's voice is soft as he reaches out to brush his fingers against the edge of the stack, eyes impossibly wide as they flick up to meet his brother's gaze.

“Oh _Techno._ This...this changes things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANWAY as always tell me what u think in the comment section below and dont forget to like and subscribe - I kid, I kid. Love you guys!!!!! Looking forward to makin you suffer in a week or so :)
> 
> EDIT: There were like 6 comments and none of them told me that I accidentally posted the entire previous chapter in addition to the current one what is the purpose of all of you

**Author's Note:**

> [YouTuber Voice] So this fic has abt 5x as many hits as kudos, and I just wanted to say, if u made it to this message and haven't already, pls hit that kudos button :)) it only takes a second, and it really helps me keep writing


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